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May 3 Wednesday sunny humid 30º C Bicycle touring France from Our little road to the farmer's field was well used this morning. Before we could pack up our tent and cycle gear and leave, several cars, tractors of various sorts, and one semi flatbed truck used to haul bales on cruised by. We cycled out on D960 and followed it most of the day along more canola and plowed fields. The green grass and the bright yellow canola look like a sea of limes and lemons. At times, the canola glows in the sunlight, looking like a field of sunshine. We cycled into Joinsville and went to a Intermarche to buy lunch and birthday cards for our moms, both of whom have birthdays in May. By the time I got out of the grocery store, it was 11:45 AM. The post office closes from noon till 2. Sharon went into the grocery store and successfully exchanged some black spray I had bought for my shoes the day before. the new shoes I bought need clear spray, not black. Sharon didn't have the sales slip, but they swapped it anyway. When she got back out, I found the sales slip for the spray, of course. By this time it was after 12. We looked at our bicycle touring map to see if there might be any quiet places along the river to have lunch. As it happens there were. Two kilometres from Joinsville, a bridge goes across a canal and leads to a small road between the canal and river. We rode over on our bikes, then sat on the one lane bridge's concrete abutment enjoying the full strength of a 30º C sunny day while eating chocolate croissants, bread with apricot jam, peanuts, chocolate puddings, Camembert cheese from Normandy, and orange drink. Wispy clouds streak the blue sky. After lunch, I wrote Mom's birthday card. I sat on the canal bank a drew the scene. There is a swing hanging over the water tied to a couple of bridge struts. I pled long enough that Sharon went for a swing on it. Two young boys fishing on the opposite bank looked on with amusement. Sharon didn't fall in, but getting on was the toughest part. She would have been majorly sour at me if she went into the drink. I wouldn't have been overly surprised if she had fallen in. She had been having a difficult time with body parts today. This morning, taking a pole out of our bike touring tent, she ripped a fingernail off -- right to the quick. Ouch! Later, she ran over her foot with her own bike. How the heck does one do that!? Last night, while sewing her bicycle touring pannier covers, she stuck her finger so many times I thought she was going to need a transfusion. I got my package for the mail all taped and ready for the post. We pedalled off in search of a post office, but couldn't find a one in any of the small towns we passed through. I want to mail my bicycle touring journal, some of the France maps we used on our bicycle tour, a few postcards, and book for our friend Heide. Sharon bungeed the formidable package to her cycle's rear rack. Good thing, too. A pop bottle on the back of my bike rack -- I had neglected to do up the cap tight enough -- soaked my entire laundry. And just when my cycle shorts were dry, too. This may not seem such a tragedy, but if you consider this was my entire wardrobe that got splashed with orange pop, I was not very happy. It is amazing how life on the road can make these little things take on immense proportions. At home I would just shrug (or maybe not even), and throw the whole works into the washer. But, on a bicycle tour in France, camped in the woods, it seems like a big predicament. I was planning to wash up and put on clean clothes, but now I have no clean clothes to put on. Maybe tomorrow. That is if I can find a place to rewash them, then if the sun is out long enough to redry them. Sharon was cutting up strawberries for dessert. Just as she was finishing, the bowl tipped and spilled all of the strawberries onto the ground. She looked at them forlornly with their acne faces staring back at her. Earlier today, we cycled past a mother reaming her kids out. I didn't have to understand the language to decipher that tone all mothers use in times like that. And the whine from a child who is guilty and caught in the act is the same everywhere, too. Sharon says communicating in a foreign language is like speaking some secret code. She is always amazed when she says some funny sounding word and they understand what she said. The next day she will say the same word again, the very same way she said it the day before, and no one will understand what she said. She figures they must have changed the secret word without telling her what it is today. Guess she'd better send away for the secret decoder ring. Next year I am taking the Klingon language. Saw a huge boat heading towards a lock. "That'll never fit," Sharon said. Well, it must have made it through the last one I pointed out, a lock about a hundred feet behind it. But Sharon was right, the boat really does look too big for the little lock. We chortled as we cycled past a Jersey cow. It was gray and white instead of black and white like all the others. Must have been out in the sun too long and faded. Saw a pony with a white body and a mismatched black head. Even the mane was white and then halfway it turned to black. Very strange. I didn't know French scientists were doing head transplants, but it sure looked like it. Saw a few horses grazing in a field. Cows, relaxing by a stream, chewed their cud. I must say, we are seeing some quite pastoral scenes on our France bicycle tour. Since we are riding more kilometres again, I am starting to lose weight again. I will have to try and stuff myself at every opportunity. Drat. Ah, the trials of a touring cyclist. Tonight I had that uncomfortable over-full feeling. I had to lay on the Thermarests and moan for a while. We cycled on D10 for a scenic shortcut. The farmers' fields have lots of rocks. Sharon says it must be hard on machinery. I say they should have planted vineyards. Home come with all the vineyards in France we rarely see any raisins in the grocery store? I think the French believe that a raisin is a grape gone bad, so they chuck it. If it can't be used in wine, then it ain't no good. We don't even see grapes in the stores. The forest we are free camped in has lots of black flies and no-see-ums. The chunk they take out for such little pukes they must be able to unhinge their jaws. France's D936 was a good choice for bicycle touring. Not too hilly and more bikes than cars on the road. The scenery was gorgeous, too. I still have to convince myself that, yes, we really are cycle touring in France. The moon is just a sliver tonight. |
